


Should I Stay or Should I Go?

by halfwit



Series: In Sickness and In Health [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst with some fluff, Awesome Castiel, Awesome Dean, Dean Has Self-Worth Issues, Destiel - Freeform, It got kind of sad, M/M, Married Destiel, Not a death fic, One Shot, Sad Dean, Self-Esteem Issues, Sick Dean, Sick Dean Winchester, Sick Fic, Slightly depressed Dean, This was supposed to be super cute, Worried Dean, cancer fic, slice of life fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 19:23:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4576800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfwit/pseuds/halfwit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean comes home from work and finds an unpleasant surprise from Castiel, which causes Dean to doubt everything in their relationship. How can Castiel still love him? How can they fight this cancer together? Maybe it would just be better if Dean cut his losses and left, but can he convince himself to go - or will it be Castiel who convinces Dean to fight and stay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Should I Stay or Should I Go?

Dean practically staggered from his car to the front door of the modest home he shared with Castiel. He was exhausted, and he tried to give himself a moment to put on the bright façade he had mastered over the past six weeks. Castiel was under enough stress with Dean’s cancer returning and new responsibilities at work, Dean did not want to add to his husband’s worries by admitting how tired he was. But, damn, it was getting harder to plow through each day and not want to find some place to collapse and sleep for about a week.

Although the hospital was willing to give Dean a leave of absence, he didn’t want to take advantage of that if it wasn’t absolutely necessary. To be honest, he wasn’t sure what the future would hold, and if the chemotherapy treatments weren’t successful, he was going to need time off for the surgery that he and Benny had discussed, something he hadn’t been fully upfront with his husband with, yet – because, hello, more stress.

Of course, Dean’s shift supervisor was aware of his waning energy, and the green-eyed man was fairly certain that was how he found himself in the pediatric ward for story time more often than not. That probably also was why Lisa suddenly – and enthusiastically – told him that no one read stories like him.

Making his way slowly to the front door, Dean pondered these facts and stopped for a moment to scrub his hand over his face, trying to wipe the exhaustion away. His hand was abraded by the coarse stubble on his cheeks. Shit! Had he forgotten to shave today? When was the last time he had? Surely it was yesterday…although it could have been the day before: Time had a way of running together nowadays.

Opening the front door, Dean was prepared with his most roguishly charming grin for his husband, who usually was waiting for him on the nights he stayed late. However, walking through the door, Dean noticed the lights were dimmed – the setting Castiel usually preferred when they were out, or before they went to bed for the evening. That was…odd. He didn’t remember Castiel saying he was going to work late. Dean felt a small thrum of nervousness begin to course through his veins, making his heart beat slightly faster.

“Cas?” Dean called out. He really didn’t want to wake his husband, if he was asleep, but he needed to be sure the other man was okay. “Babe? You here?”

Silence greeted him as he continued searching the house for his errant husband.

He walked to the back of the home, the one they purchased about six months after they married. This house had so many great memories for them – certainly there was bitter to go with the sweet, but for the most part, they had built a beautiful life together. Dean tried to let these warm thoughts fill him to counteract the building cold dread building in his stomach.

Reaching the bedroom, Dean hesitated. What if Castiel was sick? What if he was sleeping? Did Dean want to wake him up? The need to see and reassure himself that his husband was alright eventually overrode his consideration for preserving the darker-haired man’s sleep. Opening the door gently, Dean peered inside, hoping to find a Castiel-shaped lump in the middle of the bed. The light from the hallway pooled into their bedroom, revealing the bed to be empty.

Where was Dean’s husband?

Just as Dean reached into his pocket to grab his cell phone to call the other man, his gaze fell on something tucked off to the side. The mound was pushed against the wall and was so dark in the room that Dean almost overlooked it; however, once it caught his eye, he found himself convulsively swallowing to make sense of everything.

Flipping on the light, Dean had to blink rapidly to force his eyes to quickly adapt to the sudden change in lighting in the room; but, there in front of him was a sight that made his heart stop dead in his chest. Those were suitcases packed neatly in the corner. Not just any suitcases – not like Gabriel or Sam had suddenly come for a visit – those were Castiel’s suitcases. The deep blue suitcase embroidered with those revoltingly cute bumblebees that Dean had picked especially as a gift for his husband for their honeymoon.

Dean sank to his knees before the tidy pile of suitcases. Had he been so self-absorbed that he hadn’t noticed a rift between him and his husband? Had Castiel felt so neglected between Dean’s work and illness that he needed a break? Had he found someone else? Had he decided he didn’t want to go through this again with Dean, and now that Bobby and Ellen were staying nearby he didn’t feel as guilty about leaving?

No. Dean thought, angrily swiping the tears that were mutinously falling down his pale cheeks. Castiel wouldn’t leave him. The blue-eyed man was loyal to a fault. He would never abandon Dean. Sure, there had been that one time with Michael in high school during Dean’s first bout with cancer; but, they had been younger then, not as sure about one another. Castiel wouldn’t do that again, would he?

Dean was so wrapped up in his internal conflict and beating himself up at being a bad husband that when a gentle hand touched his shoulder he jumped off the floor and shrieked – a manly shriek, mind you – clutching his hand to his chest to calm his breathing.

Castiel stepped back, hands in the air in a gesture of surrender and peace, and Dean felt a violent blush come to his cheeks. What the hell was wrong with him?

“Sorry,” Castiel murmured, pitching his voice low to calm his husband. “I thought you heard me calling for you from the living room.”

Regulating his breathing, Dean tried to marshal his thoughts. He didn’t want to provoke a fight with his husband, but he couldn’t let go of the worry he felt clenching in his gut.

“You got something to tell me, Cas?” Dean growled, fear making his tone sharper than he intended.

The raven-haired man, cocked his head to the side slightly, a heartbreakingly familiar gesture that Dean had seen thousands of times over their lives together. The innocence of that quirk made Dean’s lips grudgingly twitch into a fond smile: His husband was such a loveable dork.

Clearing his throat to try again, with less hostility, Dean asked, “Is everything okay with us? It looks like you are planning on going somewhere?”

Realization widened Castiel’s ocean-blue eyes and Dean wanted to put distance between the two of them. Whatever Castiel was going to say this was going to hurt. Clichéd as it might be, Dean didn’t want to be without his husband. Castiel was his rock and lodestone; he was the only thing keeping Dean sane throughout this cancer fiasco – to lose him, it would irreparably break something in Dean.

Castiel remained quiet for a moment, but took a step forward to erase some of the distance between himself and his husband, but Dean took an instinctive step backward to maintain the space. Dean fought not to flinch when he saw the momentary hurt flicker across his husband’s handsome features.

“Dean,” Castiel began, voice sounding raw and used, as though he were fighting emotions. “What did you think when you saw those suitcases?”

The other man ducked his head sheepishly, he hated to admit to his weaknesses, hated to make himself vulnerable. Castiel always had a way, though, of exposing every self-doubt Dean had and gently pressing the other to speak about them.

“I thought you were leaving,” Dean mumbled, barely intelligibly, emerald-tinted eyes bright with unshed tears and misery.

“Without you?” Castiel pressed, brow furrowing as he processed the words his husband said.

Dean didn’t answer, just nodded his head jerkily and averting his eyes from the too piercing, knowing gaze Castiel fixed on him.

Castiel didn’t respond. The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Dean didn’t want to be the one to break the building tension between them, so he continued to look down finding their tan carpeting to be the most fascinating thing in the world. He was so fixated on the plush fibers below him that he didn’t realize Castiel had moved until he felt a finger underneath his chin, forcing his eyes up – jade locking with cerulean.

“You assbutt,” Castiel growled, sounding feral, menacing, every bit a testament to the avenging Seraph his was named after. “You have so little faith in me, in our love that you think I would bail on you.”

Dean swallowed nervously, his throat suddenly dry at the sparking anger his saw in his husband’s normally placid, warm gaze. He darted his tongue out to moisten dry lips and opened his mouth to refute Castiel, but found words wouldn’t come forth on command.

Castiel was moving, crowding more into Dean’s space, pushing him until the taller man felt his back press suddenly into the wall behind him. He tried to speak again to answer Castiel’s previous question, felt his Adam’s apple bob reflexively as he considered the best words. His husband rarely got angry. In all the years they had been together, Dean had only seen his husband’s temper flare less than a half dozen times. However, when pressed, Castiel’s temper could erupt to epic proportions, and it looked like Dean had found the trigger.

“Did it mean nothing to you when I swore before all our friends to love you and honor you and only you in sickness and in health for the rest of our lives?” Castiel rasped, bringing unrelenting hands to either side of Dean’s face to force the other man to hold his gaze. There would be no escape for Dean. Castiel knew him too well, knew all the ways he tried to hide, and he wasn’t going to take any of Dean’s shit.

“I-I,” Dean stammered, trying futility to push against Castiel to get some space. He needed to clear his head, to explain what he was feeling, and he couldn’t do that with the other man standing so close. But, the darker-haired man was unrelenting, he was a hunter who had caught his prey and he was not letting go. There was nowhere to escape. Even though Dean was taller and slightly heavier than Castiel, the shorter man wasn’t a weakling. Castiel ran religiously every morning and did yoga and Pilates to help with his flexibility. So while people might think Castiel looked leaner than Dean, or even Sam, they underestimated the wiry muscles that lie underneath. If it came down to it, Castiel could almost effortlessly carry Dean – a fact of much embarrassment on their wedding night when Castiel demonstrated this fact as he carried Dean across the threshold.

“Dean,” Castiel chastised, bringing Dean’s thoughts back to the present.

Shaking himself from his memories, Dean wanted to explain to Castiel, but found himself confused. Why had he doubted his husband? He knew Castiel loved him. What was he afraid of?

“I can’t do this alone,” Dean blurted out, and immediately groaned, closing his eyes in shame. He banged his head back into the wall behind him. Dumbass! Way to look like a needy dick, Dean – good job! God he wanted to tell his self-conscious to shut the hell up.

Castiel’s face hardened for a moment as he took in that statement. “Why do you think you are alone?”

The older Winchester shook his head and pursed his lips so tightly they were white with restricted blood flow. He didn’t want to talk.

“I’m not letting you go until you tell me the truth…the whole truth,” Castiel admonished. The blue-eyed man wanted to wince at being so stern with his husband, when all he really wanted to do was coddle him and reassure him. Years of experience at decoding Dean Winchester had taught him that if they didn’t get this resolved completely, Dean’s doubts would linger and eat at him like poison. Castiel wanted to shake sense into the gorgeous man in front of him, but that wouldn’t help them right now.

“Dude, this isn’t ‘A Few Good Men’ and I ain’t Jack Nicholson,” Dean quipped, trying to arm himself against admitting more weakness.

Castiel didn’t respond, just held fast to the other man, waiting for him to start talking again.

Dean tried to hold out against Castiel’s silence assault, but in the end he crumpled, just like he knew he inevitably would. He could never hold out against a mad Castiel – it wasn’t the natural order of things. Dean was supposed to be the grumpy, surly one and Castiel the grounding force; everything was thrown out of order when Castiel got mad.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Dean started softly, trying to look away from the assessing gaze of his husband, but thwarted at each turn. “I was beat tonight when I came home, and when I didn’t see you here, I guess I got nervous.”

Dean cleared his throat nervously and brought his hands up from where they had been clenched tightly at his sides. He reached up to put his hands over Castiel’s own, which were still cradling his face. Having the additional contact with his husband’s skin gave Dean the courage he needed to continue with his tale.

“I know I’ve been a shitty husband lately, dude,” Dean admitted, laughing hollowly at his own shortcomings. “I’ve been so wrapped up in my own crap that I haven’t been there for you. I don’t blame you if you hate me, or you are tired of me only thinking about myself. I’d be sick of me, too.”

Castiel opened his mouth to interrupt, but now that Dean got started he had an attack of verbal diarrhea and couldn’t stem the flow of words, even though a part of his brain was screaming at him to shut up.

“I don’t know why you wouldn’t want to be rid of my sorry ass,” Dean said derisively. “You’re a great guy, Cas. You’re smoking hot, funny as hell – in a dry sort of socially awkward way, crazy smart, and so loving it’s hard for me to believe that you are real sometimes. You give me so much, and I feel like all I do is take, and I can’t possibly give back a fraction of what you give me. This thing? This cancer? It’s just the icing on the cake.

“Do you know there have been times over the past few weeks that I look at myself in the mirror, or I’ll look at you as you eat that stupid Go Lean shit you seem to love, and think he would be so much better if I wouldn’t be around? I’ve actually had nightmares about what your life would be like if I… _died_ …and they are terrible because you are so much happier – your face laughing, happy, free. Free of the burdens that I have put around you. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t the selfish fucking bastard that I am. Sometimes I wish I could just let you go, set you free to find that perfect girl or guy who wouldn’t get stuck in their own head. But, I’m not a good person, Cas, I don’t think I ever have been, because even though I know I don’t deserve you, and even though I know I am a burden to you, and even though I know you could do so much better than me, I can’t make myself leave. I can’t make myself give you up.

“So, when I came home tonight and I saw your bags – those bags that you had been so fucking happy to get when we got married – when I saw them packed, my heart ripped in two. On one hand, I thought ‘good for him, he finally is getting rid of the dead weight and can move on with his life.’ On the other hand, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for myself that I was losing the love of my fucking life, my other half. I also thought that you were so much braver than me.”

Dean paused his oration, tears streaming down his face, eyes reddened by the salty tracks. He looked up from where he had been staring at Castiel’s nose and was stunned to see his husband silently sobbing in response to his words, his eyes warring with emotion – anger, despair, hurt, love.

“Cas?” Dean choked out, wondering where this left them.

The other man looked like he wanted to launch into a tirade, and Dean opened his mouth to try to defend himself. Whatever he was going to say died on his tongue as Castiel’s mouth was suddenly pressed against him – hot, demanding, and punishing.

Castiel pressed Dean further into the wall, crowding the taller man, and kissing him with a desperation that bordered on insanity: He was trying to pour all his feelings into that kiss. As Dean tried to keep pace with the frantic kissing, he felt himself become lightheaded. It had been so long since they had taken one another with this much passion. Most of their sexual encounters recently had either been hurried because one or both had been tired, or were careful, as though Castiel viewed Dean as something infinitely breakable that could not be taken too hard.

This, however, was possession, passion, desire, fear, devotion, and love. It was filling Dean with emotions that he had tried not to feel for so long, but suddenly came crashing in filling him with color and warmth.

Neither man knew how long they kissed and rutted against each other. The kisses were bruising and when they parted an indeterminate amount of time later, they both were flushed and panting – lips spit-slick and kiss-swollen with dark marks sucked into the tender skin surrounding their throats.

Castiel closed the distance and placed an infinitely tender and loving kiss on Dean’s sensitive lips, before resting his forehead against the other man’s. They stood there for several beats, arms holding one another, heartbeats resetting their rhythm to beat in sync once more as the lovers breathed kisses against the other’s lips, sharing air and love words between them.

“You’re an idiot,” Castiel rumbled some time later, not lifting his head from its position against Dean’s.

“Huh?” Dean squeaked, taking mild offense at his husband’s depiction, but refraining from saying more once he caught Castiel’s quelling gaze.

“You thought I would be better off without you? Really Dean?” Castiel challenged, tone angry, but voice never rising beyond a normal conversational level, which was more terrifying to the young Winchester than if Castiel would be yelling at him right now. This mean that his husband was using a considerable amount of restraint to keep his temper in check, which meant that Dean had succeeded in royally pissing Castiel off. Dean, for once, was wise and decided to remain silent. He had his chance to talk, this was Castiel’s.

“You talk about what you have been afraid of? You know what I’ve been afraid of? Losing you,” Castiel continued, relentless in laying bare his soul and letting Dean see the damage their lack of communication had caused. “Do you even know how many nights I lay awake, just listening to you breathe? It is the best fucking sound in the world. There are nights I barely sleep because I just want to hear you breathe or snore, because that means that you are still here with me. I have had nightmares where I fall asleep and when I wake up to kiss you good morning, you are stiff beside me, eyes open and glazed over, and you aren’t breathing. My greatest fear is having to live without you; so, to think that you have been wondering about ways to exit my life, so not going to happen.

“I am not fickle, Dean. I know you probably have been thinking back to when we were in high school.” Dean actually flinched at that, he didn’t think he was that obvious that Castiel would pick up on that deep rooted fear.

“I messed up when we were younger,” Castiel continued, as though reading Dean’s thoughts. “That stupid kiss with Michael, was just that…stupid. It was thoughtless and reckless. But, I swore to you when we got married that I would never leave you or be unfaithful, and I meant that.

“You think that I am too good for you? Have you looked at yourself? You think you haven’t been a good husband that you have been too self-involved? You are the least selfish person I know. You cook for me, you make me lunches. You always ask about my day and remember all the crazy shit that I tell you. I know you could give a damn about accounting and ledgers and balance sheets, but you look at me with interest with we talk and ask questions that make me feel like I am the most interesting person in the world. So, no, I am not too good for you. I think we are just about perfect for each other though.”

A laugh bubbled up in Dean at the end of Castiel’s speech. God, Dean could be a real idiot at times. Of course he knew Castiel wouldn’t bail. Wrapping the other man into a tight hug, Dean felt his body relax, all the tension he had been feeling finally slipping free at his husband’s words. Just as he was ready to ask the other man to go to bed, one final doubt worked its way back to the forefront of his brain.

“Cas?”

“Hmmm?” the other man practically purred, contentedly snuffling his nose along Dean’s cheek, enjoying the soft abrasion of Dean’s beard against the sensitive skin.

“Ummm,” Dean hesitated, pulling back slightly to look his husband in the eye, “I’m glad we could talk all this out, but there is one last thing. What’s up with the suitcases?”

Castiel pulled back slightly and worried his plump lower lip between his front teeth. The spike in Castiel’s nerves, skyrocketed Dean’s own.

“Cas?” Dean questioned again, fear causing his voice to pitch slightly higher than normal.

“Okay,” Castiel said, running his hands up and down Dean’s arms in soothing, repetitive motions, “don’t get mad at me.”

“Why would I be mad?”

“I kinda booked us reservations for a vacation and we are leaving for the airport in the morning and we are going to be gone for a week and I know you hate to fly and I know you really don’t want to take the time off work but I really think it will be good for us and I wanted to go ahead and get everything packed so it can still be a surprise as to where we are going and I know we are going to have a great time and it is just what we need with how much we have been working lately to have some time to relax and rest and get to reconnect more with one another and I probably could have found a better way to do this but I just wanted it to be perfect and I guess I kinda ruined everything didn’t I?” The words left Castiel’s mouth in a nervous, rambling rush, leaving no room for questions.

Dean blinked trying to follow the explanation his husband just presented. They were going away? Castiel had planned a whole trip for the two of them and his reward was Dean questioning whether the other man loved him? Yep, no doubt about it, Dean was an ass.

“You’re not an ass,” Castiel countered and Dean cringed, realizing he said that out loud. “You just jumped to a conclusion based on what you saw. If the situation was reversed, I don’t think I would have been that different.”

Castiel pushed himself away from Dean and the taller man immediately felt bereft at the loss of body heat. He was so cold these days that the press of his husband’s body against his had been the best comfort he had felt in days.

“We should get to bed,” Castiel said with a shy smile. “We need to be up early tomorrow if we are going to make our flight. That is, if you want to go?”

Wanting to kick himself for making Castiel doubt this lovely gesture, Dean smiled his most blinding smile and was rewarded by Castiel’s own bright, gummy smile – the one that was especially reserved for all things Dean.

“Hell yeah,” Dean said leaning forward to press a series of small, teasing kisses against his husband’s lips. “Let’s go get away for a little while and do something fun.”

Both men hurriedly got ready for bed, suddenly exhausted by the emotional upheaval of the night. As Castiel’s arms looped around Dean’s waist and pulled him in tightly – effectively making Dean the little spoon of their embrace – Dean unabashedly snuggled back, relishing the affection his husband was giving him. He might be a little obtuse at times, but he wasn’t stupid. Dean Winchester knew a good thing when he had it, and Castiel Novak was the best thing that ever happened to him; and if that made Dean a selfish bastard that he had no intention of ever giving up Castiel, then so be it. There was no where he would rather be than with the man nuzzling up behind him.

Comforted by his husband’s presence Dean found his eyelids drooping quickly. Within moments he was sound asleep, secure in Castiel’s love, and sleeping the best he had in weeks.

Castiel stayed awake for a while after relishing comforting lullaby of Dean’s breathing. The sound was comforting tonight, rather than worrisome, and Castiel, too, found himself drifting into a peaceful slumber. They had a big day ahead of them tomorrow and Castiel couldn’t wait to show Dean what he had in store for them.

**Author's Note:**

> As is so often the case - this was not the story I sat down to write tonight. I had every intention of writing something completely different, something fluffy and cute. However, when I started to write that story, this came out instead. I guess it was needed because everything couldn't be sunshine and roses for our boys. I think they needed to deal, really deal, with the fallout of Dean's diagnosis - sure, they did a little when Castiel found out, but I didn't think they really addressed all of Dean's doubts - especially the whole Michael thing from high school. Now that they have gotten passed this little hurdle, maybe - just maybe - my brain will let me write the two fluffy pieces I have in store next. Fingers crossed.
> 
> I hope you all liked this; for all the emotional roller coaster this was, I really enjoyed writing it. Thank you all for reading and for your comments and kudos - they mean the world to me.


End file.
